The Great Gumball Affair
by Maygin
Summary: Dean and Sam head south to deal with a thousand year old legend that no one will touch… perhaps because they’re too busy laughing at it?
1. Chapter 1

**The Great Gumball Affair**

**By: Maygin**

**Summary**: Dean and Sam head south to deal with a thousand year old legend that no one will touch… perhaps because they're too busy laughing at it? (This is what happens when you sit staring out your window for too long at a _tree_. This was supposed to be a one-shot… don't ask me how eight chapters came out of it.)

_The Blah-Blah Section_: Okay, first off I'd just like to say, I know the leap year isn't until 2008, but I'm twisting space and time for my own personal agenda – therefore leap year is occurring in 2007. And because I am Queen of all I survey, you will deal with it. …please. This is just a fun fic with a little bit of humor, a little bit of adventure… and what the heck, I'll throw in some angst for ya too. Hope ya like it!! (there might be slight spoilers for S2 - nothing major though at all)

**Chapter 1**

Dean released a grateful sigh as he slid into the booth his brother was currently occupying, and set down two very large cups of coffee. "So what do you got?" He opened his cup and dipped his finger in, testing its scalding probability to his tongue.

Sam smirked, not looking up from his laptop. "You really wanna know," he asked doubtfully.

Dean sputtered as his first gulp of his coffee most definitely had not been the moderately hot temperature he'd thought it was. "Gah! Dammit," his tongue sought out the cooling air outside the boundaries of his lips followed by panting noises to which his brother dutifully ignored. "Yes, of course I wanna know," he said somewhat annoyed now.

"Well," Sam shifted in his seat, readying himself for the mocking which would surely begin, "looks like there's a possible black dog in Garrett-"

"Eh," Dean waved the idea off, "been there done that."

Sam gave a small, expected nod, "There's your typical haunting over in West Chester," Dean rolled his eyes dramatically. Sam sighed, trying not to smile and give his brother the satisfaction. "And Springfield, Illinois has a possible reaper," Sam finished, picking up his coffee, prying the top off and dipping his finger in it before taking a sip.

Dean deflated, letting his head drop into his arms on the table making a whining noise. "Whatever happened to something new and exciting?" He looked up with almost pleading eyes. "Something challenging you know?"

Sam gave a small nod, staring into his coffee cup, chewing on his lip. "Well…" he said hesitantly.

Dean's brow piqued; drawn to the miniscule ray of hope like a moth to a flamethrower. "Well what?"

Sam's right shoulder gave a small shrug, before he suddenly shook his head. "Nothing, nevermind."

"No, what??" Dean said sincerely and way too desperately, reaching across the table to grasp onto the younger man's arm. "Come on, seriously. What? What do you got?"

Sam's head tilted to the side, considering it with a self-conscious smile. "Well," he began hesitantly and then suddenly shifted in his seat a little straighter, decision made. "We're coming up to the end of February here in the next few days…"

"And," Dean asked somewhat cautiously.

"And," Sam drew the word out like he was suddenly reconsidering, "it's a leap year."

Dean suddenly grimaced and leaned back in his seat, a disgusted look on his face. "Oh God! Not that stupid Gumball theory-"

"You asked," Sam quickly defended, "You _asked_!" He was definitely regretting having brought it up.

"Every four years," Dean reminisced and gestured loudly, "you bring this up. Even in the off season! I mean what is with you and the gumballs dude-" Dean tried not to smile as his brother cut him off in defense.

"It's a fascinating theory and there's nothing to say it isn't real."

"Sam," Dean leaned forward and said in that _it's for your own good_ type way, and then reiterated, "-exploding gumballs."

Sam sighed, unable to hide his smile anymore as he leaned back in his own seat. He was no stranger to how stupid it sounded; but that didn't mean it still didn't intrigue him. "You said you wanted something challenging."

Dean snorted, "Yeah challenging; not embarrassing."

"Dad always thought there was something to it," Sam reminded him.

"You mean after he stopped laughing and wiped the tears from his eyes."

"Whatever," Sam gave up, redirecting his attention to his laptop once more trying to swallow his grin and embarrassment. "Which is it then? Black Dog, haunting, or Reaper?"

Dean sighed slumping into his seat a little more with a half smile still on his face, watching his brother. He shook his head suddenly in disbelief he was actually even considering it. "Do you at least have any _new_ information… something substantial this time?"

Sam's eyes latched onto his brothers over the laptop with a flat stare. "Dean, its a thousand year old myth… what new information could I have _possibly_ come up with that hasn't already been discovered or exhausted?"

"How bout it's legitimacy," Dean mumbled into his coffee.

"Dude."

"Sorry," Dean straightened in his seat as if preparing himself for torture, "alright well tell me what you got on it."

"You've heard it already a thousand times," Sam reminded him, slightly annoyed.

"Yeah but I haven't had a good laugh in a while," he circled one hand in the air, "run it by me again."

Sam bristled and focused on his laptop. "Forget it."

"No seriously," Dean tried sounding sincere. "Let's knock this one out; I'm tired of hearing about it."

Sam paused, his eyes shifting up to gage just how _sincere_ he was. "You're serious," he flatly asked.

"Sure, why not?" Dean said casually. "If it turns out to be nothing, then so what. But if it's legit and we stop it… then we'll live the rest of our lives knowing we defeated the evil gumball that would have surely destroyed mankind."

Sam's expression remained flat; staring hard at his brother. He considered dropping the whole idea out of spite now, but he really, _really_ didn't want to deal with another reaper; black dogs smelled, and well… he'd had his fill of ghosts for a while too. So he sucked it up and dully pulled up a password protected file he'd secretly kept and expanded on since he was younger. He began reading.

"In 1000 A.D. the Amerindian's, also known as the Mongoloids, were an originating tribe out of Nicaragua." Dean slumped down in the booth, getting comfortable; leaning his head back and closing his eyes with a small grin on his face. "They were the first to discover the uses of the Liquidambar Styraciflua; also known as the Gumball Tree. After being invaded several times over a period of a few hundred years, the Mongoloids eventually started migrating north. Each migrating family would carry a single gumball with them from the tree; believing it brought them protection and good luck."

Dean snorted, his eyes remaining shut. Sam paused, glaring for a moment before continuing.

"One of the tribal leader's son's, Chale, was taken captive while passing through Mayan territory." Sam shifted, leaning closer to his laptop, clearly becoming absorbed in the story. "Legend goes that Chale was taken to the top of the Mayan temple to be sacrificed during a holy celebration. Before he was thrown into the fiery chasm-"

_Chasm_, Dean mouthed humorously.

"Chale," Sam flipped his brother off without taking his eyes off the computer screen, "pulled his families gumball from a pouch at his side, cursed the Mayan's and threw it into the fire. A tower of flame shot out of the sacrificial pit and filled the sky before the entire temple exploded killing thousands of Mayan's."

"And Chale," Dean added helpfully.

Sam pressed his lips together with patience. "And Chale," he conceded. He took a deep breath, "Chale's family scoured the remains looking for him but only found the gumball he had thrown into the pit… unscarred and undamaged. They carried the gumball with them as they continued migrating to what we now know as Texas and planted it there in memory of their son."

"Chale."

"Dean." Sam stared his smirking brother down.

"No-no, continue please… the good parts comin up." Dean gestured for him to keep reading.

Sam swallowed down his pride, because he _really_ wanted Dean to take this case; even if it meant humiliating himself. "Another gumball tree grew in its place and its seed quickly spread across the U.S. Apparently however, there have been stories once every leap year, which is the anniversary of Chale's death-"

"And the gumball grenade."

Sam ignored him this time, "Of villages and houses- entire buildings exploding in a ball of fire. And each incident had a gumball tree growing next to the destroyed structure." Sam finished reading and slumped back into his seat, grabbing his coffee.

"And the theory?" Dean encouraged, waving his hand in a circle. Sam sulked into his coffee trying to ignore his brother; but Dean leaned forward and put on a mocking puppy-dog look, like a four year old who was worried they wouldn't hear the end of the story. "Sammy."

Sam's eyes rolled to the ceiling and he grumbled out softly, "A possessed gumball from the originating seed line falls and explodes, taking out anything and everything nearby."

Dean sighed happily and contentedly with a huge grin on his face. "Now who wouldn't wanna save the world from _that_?!" Dean chuckled. "We'd be heroes. Hunters all over the world would bow to our greatness. The Winchesters… _Vanquishers_ of the _Exploding Gumball_!"

Sam looked bored. "Are you done?"

"Not yet," Dean said, getting more exuberant, "_Champions_ of the _Evil Seed_! …_Destroyers_ of the _Spikey Ball_ of _Death_!"

Sam snorted, unable to hold it in. He knew perfectly well how stupid and ridiculous it all sounded. "So is that a no?"

"No."

"No?" Sam asked a little shocked.

"Any ideas on where it does gonna happen next?"

Sam sat up, straightening his laptop and a little more than hopeful. "Well no. I mean it's always been just a random gumball tree somewhere in North America. And there's like, what… _thousands_ of them."

"Okay well what about the originating tree?"

Sam nodded fully invested now and pulling up more of his files on his computer. "Well there's been some speculations on that and I've pretty much narrowed it down to a few different cities in Texas… Brownsville, Lyford, Gay Hill-"

"Gay Hill?" Dean asked incredulously.

"And Blackwell," Sam finished taking a long draw from his coffee.

Dean chewed on that for a moment. "And which do _you _think it is?"

"Lyford," Sam answered immediately.

"How come," Dean asked; honestly curious. His brother just gave him a small shrug, mumbling a casual _I don't know_ into his coffee cup before taking a drink. Dean sighed glancing into his own cup. "Alright."

Sam froze and then warily, "Alright?"

"Alright," Dean confirmed, gesturing toward the laptop as he slid out of the booth. "You get directions and I'll go get our stuff packed and loaded."

"You're serious," Sam double-checked. "You're not gonna walk back in here laughing at me in five minutes?"

"Oh I'm gonna laugh at ya; but it'll be while we're driving down to Lyford."

Sam pressed his lips firmly together and nodded, trying to hold in his excitement. Dean snorted and shook his head as he left the diner muttering to himself, "Gumball geek."

**TBC…**

(Don't forget to drop a review if you have time. I'd love to hear everyone's thoughts so far.)


	2. Chapter 2

**The Great Gumball Affair**

**By: Maygin**

Summary: Dean and Sam head south to deal with a thousand year old legend that no one will touch… perhaps because they're too busy laughing at it?

_The Blah-Blah Section_: I really have nothing enlightening to say other than this… okay so five minutes later I still have nothing enlightening to say… despite my best efforts and the sacrificing of many brain cells. …I tried. Sorry. It's just one of those days. BTW, AnickaMarie – I live in St. Louis, MO and they litter our neighborhood, so I know how your grandparents feel ;)

**Chapter 2**

"So seriously Sammy, why do you think it's Lyford?" Dean asked. He was feeling good being on the road. The sun was shining brightly despite the coolness in the air and they were quickly nearing their destination.

Sam lifted his head from the back of his seat, glancing at his brother and then the wide open scenery before them that was Texas. He shifted slightly. "Well… Liquidambar Styraciflua typically have a life span of about 150 to 300 years. But there's one in Lyford that's been there at _least_ six hundred years according to local records. There's a good chance it's been there much longer though according to some samples that botanist's have taken to study at nearby colleges."

"Okay…" Dean was still waiting for the punch line. "And?"

"And what?"

"Why the hell didn't you just say that before?"

Sam's head tilted with a self- deprecating grimace, now feeling stupid for his reasons. "Cuz I was afraid you'd call me a gumball geek or something."

Dean snorted and chuckled, but didn't reveal his personal joke. "Yeah well… hey, remember that time you got thrown into a huge pile of those things?"

"Yeah, it hurt like hell." Sam justified, obviously not as fond of the memory as his brother. "Those things were like needles."

Dean laughed. "Oh man, I wish you could've seen yourself. You had like fifty of those things just sticking to you. …in your hair- God that was awful."

"You're gonna make a right at this next stop." Sam supplied.

The Impala slowly made its way down an old road banked by aged two-story shops and stores.

"Welcome to hodunk." Dean spoke; his eyes darting back and forth at the simple people strolling up and down the sidewalks doing their business.

Sam smirked. "The Bed and Breakfast's at the end of the street on the left."

"Whoa, wait a second." Dean frowned. "Bed and breakfast as in frilly, lacy, old lady type bed and breakfast?"

"Good, home-cooked food," Sam supplied, knowing it was a huge selling point with his brother.

Dean's head tilted as if weighing the options and then whined, "Yeah, but then she's gonna wanna _talk_ to us."

Sam turned wide eyes on his brother. "Holy shit you're right," he said with all seriousness. "I mean who knows, she might even try to make you drink her tea!"

Dean licked his lips, looking completely un-humored as he took a left at the end of the street. "Bitch."

**

* * *

**

"This will be your boys's room." Said the very short, curly-white haired woman with a hunched back and large, thick glasses resting on her nose. She was the epitome of _Grandmotherness_. Her voice even shook slightly with age and had a southern accent lacing her words. Sam instantly liked her; Dean just nodded his head, not engaging in conversation or looking even remotely interested in engaging conversation.

The said boy's dropped their bags each onto a single bed and looked at their surroundings. Their little hostess continued to stand there with a smile on her wrinkled face, watching their reactions. "Well," she finally said happily when Sam smiled at her his approval, "let me know if you boys need anything. Dinner'll be in an hour or so. There's Lyford maps on the coffee table in the living room if you need em. But, rest- relax," she kindly demanded, "I'll bring you boys some tea later if you want."

Dean licked his lips before turning his head toward his brother with a smug look.

"Thank you Ms. Montgomery," Sam said ignoring his brother.

"Just call me Grandma Bee, short for Beatrice; everyone else does." Then she happily turned and shuffled away.

Sam suddenly found the flooring very interesting as he tried not to laugh, fully aware his brother was waiting for it. He finally conceded with a smile, "Alright, its a little hodunk."

"You owe me big time." Dean threw himself onto his bed, testing its agility and bounce meter. "You think she'd come runnin in here with a rolling pin if I started jumping on the bed?"

"Dean," Sam said tiredly as he unpacked, "don't piss off Grandma Bee." And he again had to stop himself from laughing.

"Dude, if she'd said _Aunt_ Bea I would've lost it."

"Poor old lady, she's just trying to make a living for herself and you're up here making fun of her."

"Whatever, it's funny and you know it." Dean pushed himself up and leaned back against the headboard. "So what's the plan?"

"Well I figure we can do dinner in an hour and see about getting some information from our hostess about the tree while we eat. You know… _pleasant_ dinner conversation?" Sam emphasized, giving his brother a good stare down before resuming his unpacking.

"You really think _Grannie's_ gonna know _anything_ about a thousand year old gumball tree?"

**

* * *

**

"In pioneer times they used the sweet, balsamic resin as a treatment for sores, chest colds… even dysentery."

Dean grimaced, but Grandma Bee missed it as she scooped out a large spoonful of mashed potatoes onto his place. She then did the same to Sam who smiled his thanks before the smile turned smug and was aimed at his brother.

"It was also made into a type of chewing gum… which is where you get gumball tree from." She was all old-lady smiles as she continued to dump home-made fried chicken and green beans onto their plates in heaping quantities.

"You don't say," Dean said with flat enthusiasm. "Well we heard there might be one here that's really old… like, a thousand years old even."

Grandma Bee laughed as she set the bowl of green beans down, wiped her hands on her apron and took her seat at the head of the table. "Yes, yes. That ole tree and I have been through a lot of years together," she laughed again. Sam found he couldn't help but chuckle along with her; her very spirit was uplifting and joyful; and it was refreshing to be in her presence.

"So you've probably lived here your entire life." Sam observed, trying to put her in a talkative mood; although it didn't look like he needed to put much persuasion into it.

"Born and raised."

"So is it really a thousand years old?"

"That's what them scholarly folk say. There's a lot of stories attached to that ole girl."

"Really? Like what?" Sam asked, knowing oh so well how to play this game.

"Oh just here-say really. But some people think it's possessed."

_Score_, Sam smirked. "Do you?"

"Good gravy, no." She chuckled. "Now why would a demon go possessing a _tree_?"

"That's an excellent question," Dean said pointedly, looking across the table at his brother.

"Well has anything strange ever happened around it?" Sam tried.

"Strange how?" She picked up the pitcher of tea and looked to the older brother, "Tea?"

Dean's forehead smoothed out and he shook his head, quickly covering his glass with his hand just for extra measure. She handed him the water pitcher instead.

"I don't know… just anything you can think of?" Sam hesitantly asked as he spooned some potatoes.

Grandma Bee picked up her fork and held it a moment, looking through her thick lenses out the dining room window a moment. "Grass," she said suddenly and then stabbed at a forkful of green beans.

"I'm sorry?" Sam asked, not sure he'd heard right.

"Grass," she repeated as she picked her napkin up from her lap and waved it between her crooked fingers for Dean to see before replacing it in her lap.

Dean looked at her oddly before hearing Sam clear his throat and then pointedly made a gesture of pulling an invisible napkin off the table and putting it in his lap. Dean awkwardly dragged his lacey napkin from beneath his knife and dropped it to his lap, sending an exasperated look to his brother.

"What _about _the grass?" Dean asked, trying to recover his dignity.

"Well, it's the strangest thing," she said wistfully, "ever since I was a little girl, they've had troubles growing grass around the tree."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, it's like every few years the grass around the tree just… burns up."

"Burns up."

"Yes." Then she looked at them with a conspiratorial spark in her eye. "We used to always think it was the Henderson boy's actin up, but they're long gone now."

Dean's head tilted slightly with a cautious smile, "Every few years huh?"

"Yes, very strange."

"Could it be… more like- every four years?" Dean tried.

Grandma Bee paused a moment, her aged, blue eyes looking back into her past. "It very well could be." And then she chuckled. "You have to remember son, I'm an ole gal. Not quite as sprite as I used to be."

Sam broke out into smile and took a stab at his green beans as he watched his brother give in to a grin of his own and then start in on his chicken.

**

* * *

**

"So?"

"So?"

Sam pulled a night shirt over his head with a grin. "Every four years the grass around the tree burns up?" He stood there waiting for the approval he knew he was owed.

Dean rolled his eyes and set his book down on his chest as he lounged on his bed. "It's a good lead."

"It's a great lead." Sam dropped onto his own bed with a content smile.

"We'll check it out tomorrow morning, and then maybe do a little digging around the local library."

Sam winced, "Eh, I don't think a town this small is gonna have a good library… more like a lending library than an information source."

"Alright well where do you suggest genius?"

"Maybe city hall? They probably keep quite a few records there. And I don't know- maybe we could visit the local college and speak with one of the botanists who were studying the tree?"

"Works for me." Dean reached over and set his book on the nightstand. Then after pulling the blanket at the end of his feet up to his chest, he paused and gave his brother a knowing look, as if chastising a child, "Sammy, did you remember to brush your teeth?"

"Dude," Sam tiredly stared at the ceiling, "lay off Grannie Bee alright? She's been nothing but sweet to you."

Dean chuckled, laying on a southern accent, "Well good gravy Sam, I didn't realize you like fried chicken so much."

"Shut up."

**TBC…**

(I swear the actual plot line will develop a little more in the next chapter. Don't forget to drop me a review if you think about it… they keep me occupied from reading too many spoilers on upcoming episodes -- alright, I fixed whatever the heck happened when I first loaded this chapter. Sorry bout that.)


	3. Chapter 3

**The Great Gumball Affair**

**By: Maygin**

Summary: Dean and Sam head south to deal with a thousand year old legend that no one will touch… perhaps because they're too busy laughing at it?

_The Blah-Blah Section_: Sorry about the repeating paragraph there in the last chapter – not a clue what happened, it looked fine when I uploaded it the first time. Suffice to say – it's fixed now. I wasn't going to upload this until tomorrow but I figured what the hey, it's Easter – MWA :

**Chapter 3**

_Knock Knock Knock_

"Deeeeaan, Saaaam," Grandma Bee's aged voice kindly called from behind their door.

"Oh god," Dean groaned loudly, pulling his pillow over his head. Sam tiredly wiped at his eyes before picking up the old fashioned alarm clock on the nightstand and squinting at it painfully as sunlight cut through the blinds and lace curtains. Suddenly the door clicked open and Sam scrambled to pull his sheets up to his chest. Dean just watched annoyed as Grandma Bee came shuffling in with a joyful smile and a tray in hand.

"I figured you boys were probably worn out from all that driving yesterday and would like your breakfast in bed."

"Or just sleep in bed," Dean grumbled quietly, wiping a hand over his face.

"Here you go honey," She laid the first tray down on Sam's lap who just gave her a bewildered look, still not certain if he wasn't still dreaming and trying to blink the sleep out of his eyes.

She shuffled back out into the hallway and was soon carrying another loaded down tray into their room and placing it on Dean's lap. "And one for you Dean." She took a step back and looked at them for a moment, smiling widely, as if waiting for them to start digging in and enjoy her food.

"Um, thank you… you uh-" Sam cleared his throat and tried to smooth his mussed hair down, "you didn't have to do this."

"Nonsense," she assured with a wide smile, her old eyes sparkling, "you boys deserve it. Having you fine young men around has brought a spring into my step again." She chuckled gleefully and then shuffled her way out, closing the door behind her.

"Good God Grandma Bee," Dean groaned, letting his head fall back onto his pillow.

Sam rubbed at his eyes again and then chuckled slightly as he looked at all the food resting on their trays. "She's… lively."

"Ya think? Ugh," Dean tried to carefully push himself up against the headboard without tilting his tray too much. "What time is it anyways?" he grouched.

Sam tried another go at the alarm clock, "Uh… six-twenty."

"In the morning?!"

Sam chuckled again, remembering that same incredulously whiney question coming out of his brother's mouth a little over a year ago. "Yeah well you know what they say… early bird and all that."

"We Winchesters have a different philosophy Sam," he grouched. "The early bird may get the worm, but it's the second mouse that gets the cheese." Dean gratefully picked up the steaming mug of coffee sitting in the corner of his tray and took a large gulp.

"You got that off of a bumper sticker," Sam replied flatly, holding his own coffee mug beneath his nose and just letting the aroma wake him up a little more.

"Same difference."

Sam snorted, "No, it's not."

"Dude, it's six-twenty in the morning. Don't argue with me unless you wanna be walkin everywhere today." Dean picked up a steaming biscuit with butter on it and sniffed at it. He took a large bite of it and then his eyes rolled up and back, a loud sound of pleasure emanating from his throat. "Oh Grannie Bee..." he said around a mouthful of food, "you can butter my biscuits any damn day you please."

Sam smiled into his coffee.

* * *

The boys piled out of the Impala and started the short trek past an old, broken down brick building that looked like it had once been an old school house and into a field. They came to a stop before a foot high wire fencing that surrounded a large tree with high branches and brown, spiked fruits hanging from its limbs. 

"Here she be," Dean remarked with a slight disappointment. He didn't really know what he'd expected, but something a little more sinister looking would've been nice.

"Yup."

The boys stared at it a few moments more.

"Sooo," Dean stuck his hands in his pockets and glanced around at their very non-threatening surroundings. "…Glad we made this little trip."

Sam shot him a brief look before stepping over the tiny fencing and getting closer to the tree.

"Oh come on Sam," Dean chastised his brother, "what would Grannie think of you trespassing like that?"

"It's not trespassing," Sam threw back. "The fence is just a marker. I'm sure it's easy to miss that this tree is so old," he commented wistfully, walking around the trunk, looking for… what, he wasn't sure.

Dean stepped over the miniature fencing and reached down to pick up a dead gumball, inspecting it. "Who would want these things in their backyard?"

Sam smirked and then reached out to brush his hand over the bark of the tree. It felt normal enough. He looked down and picked up a gumball himself, looking it over. "I don't know Dean… I mean," he glanced upward through the tree branches with a shrug, "it just looks like a normal tree."

"Well what'd you expect?" Dean asked, despite knowing perfectly well the deathly image he'd had in his own mind of the thousand year old plant before they arrived.

"I don't know…" Sam trailed off. He slowly backed up until he was standing next to his brother; both of them observing the normal looking tree and waiting for something to happen.

"When's lunch?"

"Dean."

"Seriously- I don't wanna miss it."

"I thought you didn't like the whole bed and breakfast thing," Sam argued half-heartedly as he started walking back toward the car.

"Well that was before I knew there was a Grandma Beatrice included in the deal."

"Keys," Sam demanded and caught them outta the air. He unlocked the trunk and started sorting through it. "Dude, do you ever put anything back where it belongs?"

"The weapons belong in the trunk." Dean stepped up next to him.

"Yeah, but I sorted them so it'd be easier to find stuff and you just throw everything in here like mass chaos."

"I like mass chaos."

Sam paused, leaning down on his arms and giving his brother an exasperated look. "Why?"

"Because it's less dorky," Dean deadpanned.

Sam sighed, "Fine, whatever," and went back to searching.

"It's in the back right corner, under the blessed mace."

"How do you know what I'm looking for?" Sam asked curiously as he redirected his search in that area.

Dean shrugged, "Because it's what I'd do."

Sam's hand found the holy water and he paused, uncertain why his brother's comment flared a pleasing sense of pride through his veins. He cleared his throat and then backed out of the trunk, giving his brother a small nod without making eye contact and then brushed past him, heading back toward the tree. Dean followed him, oblivious to his unconscious compliment.

"You think it'll do anything?" Sam questioned as he stepped over the fence and walked up to the trunk of the tree.

Dean shrugged, stopping next to his brother. "Guess we'll find out."

Sam unscrewed the cap of the flask and then cautiously started pouring the liquid over the tree's protective bark. The holy water seeped into the deep gouges of the ancient bark and suddenly started sizzling and hissing. Steam started rising and creases in the bark flared a glowing crimson before crackling and making a slow burn to black.

Dean and Sam waved away the steam and did a damage assessment. A tiny portion of the bark where the water soaked in the most was blackened and burned as if by fire. Dean reached out and tapped at the spot with the pad of his finger, half expecting it to be hot. It wasn't, so he flattened his hand against it.

"Huh," he said intelligently, peering up through the branches.

"Well…" Sam looked around them; still half-expecting some form of demon or spirit to come launching at them. "I guess we don't really need to do anymore research then."

"Yeah." Dean stepped back and the boys both gave the tree another good look over with their eyes. "So when's lunch again?"

* * *

"Maybe we should try and come up with something else," Sam said doubtfully as he and his brother trudged up the front, gravel walkway leading to the bed and breakfast.

"Why?"

"I don't know… in case it backfires?" Sam half asked, half offered.

"We know holy water will kill it, and tomorrow's the 28th. We're kind of running out of time to come up with a better way of killing it."

"I know," Sam said disappointedly as they tromped up the hollow front porch steps and pulled open the creaky screen door, making their way inside.

They weren't even a foot within the door before a white and blue dish towel was waving in their faces and they were being chased back outside.

"What the f-" Dean started but was cut off by their exuberant hostess.

"Out, out - you boys aren't allowed in here until lunch is ready to be served. I don't want to ruin the surprise of what I'm cookin." Grandma Beatrice leaned out the doorway with a bright smile on her face. "I left some tea and lemonade out here in case you boys came back a little early and you're both paler than marshmallows so some good ole fashioned sunlight will do you good." She chuckled and gestured toward the pitchers full of tea and lemonade sitting off to the side on a small wicker table with two rocking chairs on either side. "Have a seat, have a seat," she waved the dish rag at them again to which Dean jerked up in annoyed defense to before backing away toward their assigned seats. "Lunch'll be ready in an hour or so." She gave them one last beaming smile behind her thick glasses and then allowed the screen door to creak and snap shut behind her as she shuffled away.

"The woman should be put in an institution," Dean grumbled as he dropped into one of the rocking chairs, catching himself as it tilted back a little farther than he'd expected.

Sam chuckled and carefully slumped into the other chair with a sigh. He allowed the natural rocking motion back and forth to bring a little bit of comfort to his ever-constant stream of thought processes. He almost snorted; it really _was_ the simple pleasures in life. Sam relaxed a little further into the chair, his head resting against the back and reveling in the bright sunshine that filled his view and lit up all the life surrounding them. Fortunately it was still February so there weren't as many bugs flying around, but it was still _Texas_ and that meant fairly warm weather.

"So we're still going with the holy water then?" he asked contentedly; not really caring anymore what plan they went with. He was too into the peaceful moment surrounding them to care.

"If something works, stick with it. Besides… I don't think I've ever really killed something with _just_ holy water before. I'm kinda curious," Dean smirked at the idea and then leaned over and poured himself a glass of lemonade.

"Yeah well," Sam replied lazily, staring out at the large, full trees and scenic landscape that was Grandma Beatrice's lawn, "it's gonna take a hell of a lot of holy water to do it. I poured almost that entire flask on it and it only burnt a _piece _of the bark."

"Yeah, I've got an idea on that."

Sam's head rolled toward his brother. "Care to share?"

Dean turned and looked at him with a smug smirk, "I don't wanna go and ruin the surprise."

Sam rolled his eyes and then looked back out at the landscape; his chair rocking small creaking noises in the wood beneath their feet with every repetitive motion. "Whatever it is, I don't wanna be bait this time."

"Aw, don't worry your furry little head over it." Dean took a sip of his drink and then relaxed into his chair. "After lunch we'll head into town."

"Kay," Sam said lazily, his eyes slowly drifting more and more closed with each blink.

Dean watched him with amusement; it wasn't like they hadn't had a good night's sleep last night… he supposed it was the atmosphere of peace and calm that Grandma Bee had surrounded them in. This carefree lifestyle they seemed to have drifted into for- what… it hadn't even been a full twenty-four hours yet. They'd needed something like this… a vacation of sorts; away from the continual darkness that typically surrounded them… _Sam_ had needed this. He knew he should thank Grannie for that; he wouldn't… but he_ was_ grateful; despite all her weird quirks.

A minute later, Dean could hear Sammy's breathing deepen and even out; his chair slowing to a stop and a warm breeze brushing across their faces. Dean smirked and then took another sip of his drink, relaxing in his chair and the mid-day sunshine.

**TBC…**

And in case anyone was wondering – Dean's Blessed Mace is a large metal club… not the stuff you spray in crazy peoples faces. Thank you for your reviews!! I cherish each and every one! Fer Real ;)


	4. Chapter 4

**The Great Gumball Affair**

**By: Maygin**

Summary: Dean and Sam head south to deal with a thousand year old legend that no one will touch… perhaps because they're too busy laughing at it?

_The Blah-Blah Section_: Man, is it already Tuesday?! …that's all the blah-blah I have for you today - sorry.

**Chapter 4**

"Hey, you think maybe we can stuff Grandma Bee in the trunk and take her with us?"

Sam laughed, looking at his brother with a bit of surprise. "I thought you didn't like her."

"All I'm sayin is the woman can cook."

Sam shook his head, still smiling and followed his brother across the street toward an old mechanic garage. "It's definitely the best food I've ever had."

"Better than stodgy Stanford food?"

Sam rolled his eyes with a sigh as they walked beneath the shadow of the garage. "Alright, so what's your big plan?"

Dean's head swiveled back and forth until he saw what he was looking for. "Grannie gave me a lead."

Sam's brow rose, "Grannie Bee gave you a lead on how to kill the possessed tree?" he asked doubtfully.

"No, we already know how to kill it."

Sam held his hands out as he followed Dean across to the other end of the garage. "Well then what did she tel-" Sam jerked to a sudden stop as Dean, without warning, turned around and held a hand over his mouth.

"Silence kimosabe… Dean is tryin to work." Dean said enthusiastically before turning again and walking toward a car with its hood open, leaving a bewildered and somewhat humored Sam in his wake.

"What has gotten into _you_?" Sam asked with a grin; he wasn't used to Dean being so carefree and… _goofy_. Usually it was hard wit or biting sarcasm; this was almost… playful. Sam decided he kinda liked it.

Dean walked up to the car and knocked three times on the frame, and put on a huge smile, looking downwards. A very dirty and grease-stained man suddenly rolled from beneath the car, taking a moment to stare at his visitors. "Can I help you boys?" he asked with a southern accent.

"Yeah, me and my brother here," Dean smacked a hand at his brother's chest who jerked slightly in surprise, "we're just in town visiting and we were told to make sure and stop by your place. Something about a fire truck or something?"

Sam's eyes widened slightly and then he suddenly understood his brother's plan. Leave it to Dean to make everything into a big production. He was quickly re-learning day by day that his brother never did anything small.

"I got's a fire truck," the man said, still lying flat on his rolling board, "What'chu wan it for?"

"Oh, we were just told to come by and take a look at it. Is it true you run the entire fire department all by yourself?" Dean asked with an open smile, inserting the right amount of awe and respect in his voice.

The man grinned now too, pushing himself up off the ground. "Yes sir-ee. I myself, and two other guys volunteer. But I keep the truck here at my garage."

Dean bounced on his feet, looking way too excited. "Awesome, do you think we could take a look at it? Sam here, he- he loves fire trucks. Ever since he was little tyke isn't that right Sammy?" Dean smiled at his brother.

Sam swallowed a sigh, _at least it wasn't dolls this time_, and smiled at the mechanic. "It's true."

"Well then you boys are in fer quite a treat," the mechanic held his hand out, "I'm William Gustofor, but everyone just calls me Gus."

Dean shook his hand, "Dean Taylor."

"Sam, nice to meet you," Sam said, shaking the man's hand.

"Well come on, come on," Gus waved them to follow him. They walked through a back door to the garage and out into the sunshine once more. Sam slowed to a stop and had to press his lips together hard not to laugh. There, sitting in all it's glory was Lyford's one and only fire truck; an old, beat up, 1950's Chevy truck with a mixture of chipped red paint and rust covering it's aged body. The thing hardly looked drivable.

"Wow," Sam smiled widely, figuring it'd come off as appreciation to Gus… but to Dean… Dean's face was priceless.

Dean stared at the truck a moment, almost as if waiting for Gus to laugh and tell him it was a joke. Then he drew in a deep breath and scratched at his head, trying not to lose the act. "Yeah, geeze… I mean… would you look at that?"

"She's a beaut' isn't she?" Gus gave them a toothy smile, his eyes squinting in the sunlight.

"Oh yeah she's-" Sam tilted his head, "…something else."

"You wanna git in 'er?" Gus asked with a mischievous glint in his eye.

"Oh-ho," Sam chuckled, "I don't know." Sam glanced over at his brother with a smile. "What do you think Dean?"

Dean's eyebrows rose a moment, his eyes never leaving the truck. "Sure… why not?"

"Now come on, don't be shy. She won't bite ya." Gus ushered them inside. He pulled open the drivers side door which made an awful creaking noise. Sam winced slightly; it was worse than the Impala.

Dean and Sam cautiously climbed inside; Sam in the drivers seat and Dean in the passenger. Gus leaned against the open window frame with his arms crossed and a wide grin on his face.

"Oh the stories this gurl could tell. She's been Lyford's saving grace since early 60's I reckon." Gus leaned his torso halfway through the window and reached around the wheel to turn the key forward. "And look at that!" he fiddled with the radio dial. "Even has the original radio in tact. Still works too!"

Sam was really having a hard time not chuckling now, while Dean just turned and peered through the back window. "Is that the water tank?" he asked gesturing toward a large tank that filled most of the truck bed; an old, large hose curled and hanging off the side of the tank on a hook.

"Yep. Full tank too. Last time we used this baby was on the Wilson's lawn mower. Thing went crazy and bout mowed down half of Lyford. So we just watered it down till it kinda died. But we filled her up since then," Gus leaned over and gave the water tank a few hard, metallic pats.

Sam made an odd sort of choking noise and Dean could see his upper body shaking slightly; his lips pressing down hard on a smile. Dean rubbed hard at his eyes with a sigh, feeling more than a little stupid.

"Hey," Gus leaned onto Sam's window frame again, his voice lowering conspiratorially, "you uh… you boys wouldn't wanna take her for a spin wouldjya?"

"Oh boy, would we?" Sam enthusiastically blurted out; turning to his brother with a huge, mocking smile. "What do you think big brother? Doesn't that sound like fun??"

Dean gave him a glare that clearly said, _can it_, before putting on a false smile for Gus. "That'd be great. But are you sure you're okay with this? What if there's a fire?"

Gus waved their worries away, "Eh, they'll be fine. 'Sides, you're stayin at Grandma Bee's place right?"

"Yeah, how'd you-"

"Ain't nobody keep secrets in this town." Gus smiled and slapped the window frame before backing up slightly. "Drive her as much as you want. Just fill er up when yer done. I close shop here in a few hours so you can just swing her on by sometime tomorrow if ya want."

"Wait-" Sam shifted in his seat, "You're just… gonna let us take it?"

"Sure… I trust ya."

Sam turned a slightly bewildered look to his brother who shrugged, just as clueless. Sam turned back, "Okay," he agreed. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it. It's not often a fellow lover of classic fire trucks comes strollin through Lyford."

"Yeah, well that's our Sammy," Dean gushed.

"Alright," Gus smacked the side of the car in enthusiasm and stepped back, "well you boys go have a wild night."

Sam gave a nod and reached forward, turning the ignition. It growled and sputtered before climatically dying. Dean coughed and Sam bit his lip, his eyes trailing warily to the side.

"Oh that happens all the time. You gotta kick er into gear while she turns over, 'else she just kinda gives out."

Sam gave a tilt of his head before reaching forward and trying again. It growled and sputtered again, but held on a little longer as Sam reached down and tried to move the uncooperative stick shift into gear. It came to a jerking stop again. Dean groaned and ran a hand over his eyes.

"Really jam 'er," Gus cheered them on from the side, making a harsh, jamming motion with his fist.

Sam sighed and gave it one more try, turning the ignition and then using all his upper body strength, shoved the gear into drive. The truck growled and roared to life. Gus clapped.

"Yeah! That's my girl!"

The truck slowly started to roll forward and Gus jogged along side them, "Have fun, and don't git into too much trouble!" He waved them off as they went around the corner of the garage and onto the street.

"Well this is fun," Sam joked as he turned the car onto the main road through town and reached down to throw it into the next gear. The truck came to a grunting dead halt, throwing both boys forward and then slamming them back into their seats. Sam turned wide eyes to his brother who was glaring at him. "Whoops… wrong gear."

"Ya think?"

"Give me a break; this car should be in a museum." Sam defended.

"Whatever, move." Dean started shoving at his brother's shoulder. "I'm driving."

"Alright! Geeze," Sam nearly fell out of the truck from Dean's pushing once he got the door opened. He walked around to the passenger side. "Control freak," he mumbled as he climbed back in. "So where are we gonna do this?"

"Where else?"

Sam's brow rose as Dean turned the ignition and jammed her into gear. "You wanna perform a holy cleansing ritual at Grannie Bee's?"

Dean shrugged, "What's the big deal? It's not like she'll let us inside anyways. She's probably already started on dinner and won't want to _spoil the surprise_."

"Alright," Sam conceded with a smile, "but if she comes running after us with a rolling pin I'm blaming you."

"Oh come on Sammy," Dean jeered, "no-body uses rolling pins anymore."

* * *

"Now don't you boys get any ideas about comin in here before dinner's ready," Grannie Bee called from the front porch, waving a rolling pin in the air for extra emphasis. "I don't wanna ruin the surprise," she finished with a smile before shuffling back inside.

"Huh." Sam smirked.

"Shut up." Dean closed the door of the truck, having stopped mid-close when Grandma Bee came bursting onto the porch laying down her demands. "You know, what if I wanted to change my clothes or take a shower or God help me go to the bathroom?" Dean grumbled as he walked the few steps to _his _car and pulled out his keys.

"I'm sure she'd let you in Dean," Sam said seriously with a grin.

Dean turned to him with a boyish, mischievous smile. "I'll give ya five bucks if you sneak into the kitchen and find out what she's making."

Sam snorted and then watched his brother unlock the trunk and open it. "Twenty and you've got a deal," Sam said boldly.

Dean's head jerked up in surprise; Sammy _never _took his bets anymore… not since he left for college and lost his deep-seeded need impress his older brother. Dean felt a happy bunny start bouncing around in his chest… he wanted to shoot it or course, but at the same time he secretly kind of liked it… his little brother wanted to impress him. He didn't know why that was such a good feeling. He backed out from under the trunk and challengingly stared down the younger man with a grin. "Alright Barney… it's a deal."

Sam gave a confirmative nod and then turned and made his way indoors. Dean scoffed as the screen door creaked and snapped shut behind his brother; he thought the kid would've at least tried the back door or something a little less conspicuous. He wasn't even being stealthy about it. Dean waited another minute or so, glancing at his watch. A few seconds later Sam came strolling back outside with a content smile and munching on a large chocolate chip cookie.

Dean glared at him as he came closer, "You are one smug bastard, you know that?"

"Mm-hm," Sam nodded behind a smile as he took another bite of the cookie; his eyes sparkling.

"How the hell did you do that," Dean asked, annoyed. He _really_, really hadn't wanted to give his brother the satisfaction… but his curiosity bested him.

Sam's smile simply held in place and he held out a hand, palm facing the sky. "Pay up."

Dean shook his head, knowing perfectly well he'd never have pulled that off, and grumbled as he pulled his wallet from his back pocket, sorting through the bills. "You could've at least brought me one too."

Sam accepted the bill and stuffed it in his jacket pocket; pulling out a napkin with something distinctly round wrapped inside. He handed it over with a wide smile, "Consolation prize."

Dean grinned, "That's my boy." He tossed the napkin into the trunk and started rooting through one of their bags, shoving half the cookie in his mouth. "So what's for dinner," he asked around the mouthful of cookie.

"Not sure; but there was some kind of potato casserole sitting on the counter. I think I might've smelled roast beef though."

"Ah, seriously?" Dean paused to gage his brother's honesty; his mouth immediately started to water at the thought. "Man… we gotta come here more often. Think we can get a frequent customer discount?" He pulled a string of beads from a pouch inside the duffle bag and then backed out, closing the trunk. He held out the beads, taking another bite of his cookie.

Sam looked at them a moment, not making any move to take them. "What?"

"You do it, it's your turn," Dean said, giving the holy beads a shake for good measure.

"No it's not," Sam slapped Dean's hand away, "I made the last batch."

"Yeah and then you used it all on one, little ole gnome-"

"Who was about to start chewing on your ass."

"Okay drama queen, but if it hadn't been for me you would've never gotten out of that tree trap."

"Fine," Sam snagged the beads, more so because he knew where the argument would lead to next, and he _so_ didn't want _that _being brought up again anytime soon. He had enough embarrassment as is. He shoved his cookie into his brother's chest, "Eat it and die."

Dean smirked, feeling the victory and took a small nibble out of his brother's cookie just in spite.

**TBC…**

(Thanks for all the reviews guys! You keep me in stitches!)


	5. Chapter 5

**The Great Gumball Affair **

**By: Maygin **

Summary: Dean and Sam head south to deal with a thousand year old legend that no one will touch… perhaps because they're too busy laughing at it?

_The Blah-Blah Section_: Have I mentioned just how dearly I love hearing ya'll's theories on things? Your reviews have been awesome and really inspire me to write more, so thank you so very kindly! I had originally planned and attempted numerous times to post this Thursday night before the LimpSam viewing of BUABS… however fate was not with me. FFN has been playin the hater on me and won't let me load any documents. HUGE thank you to HT Marie for her helpful tips on how to work around uploading errors – you are my hero today!!

**Chapter 5 **

"You think it'll be enough?" Sam asked as he slowly started climbing the staircase to the second floor.

"Are you kiddin me? There's like fifty gallons of water in that tank." Dean exasperated as he too trudged up the stairs following his brother.

"Holy water."

"Whatever, it'll be fine."

"And if it's not?"

"We'll dawn tutu's and prance around it singing _If You're Happy And You Know It_-"

"Dean." Sam said tiredly.

"Well what do you want? It's a good plan, it'll be fine. Just chill out."

"Alright," Sam conceded. He trudged up a few more stairs before he finally just stopped and leaned against the wall, his eyes closed and a hand on his stomach. "God, I don't remember ever eating so much food before in my life."

Dean gave a small nod before draping himself over the railing. "I promise to never eat roast beef and sweet rolls in mass quantity ever again if you'll just… carry me up the rest of the stairs," he mumbled into his arm his head was currently resting in.

Sam's eyes peeled open, "Are you talking to me?"

"Is Grannie around?"

"No."

"Then yes, I'm talking to you. Come on," Dean held his free arm out lamely toward his brother, "…drag me if you have to."

Sam snorted and then smacked Dean's arm down before he gathered his strength and peaked the last few steps, "Must… keep…going." He made it to the top step and turned, doing his best Rocky imitation in victory and whispered crowd cheers. Dean rolled his eyes and climbed the last few steps hunched over, punching a fist into his brother's gut as he pushed past toward their bedroom. Sam immediately curled over with a cross between a laugh and a groan; holding his stomach and trying to keep his dinner down.

"Oh I hate you," he moaned.

"Have I taught you nothing Padawan? Hatred leads to the dar-"

"Finish that sentence and I will kill you," Sam dropped onto his bed, sinking into the soft mattress and pulling his clean, downy, linen pillow beneath his face with a pleased moan of contentment.

Dean slowly stripped his shirt off, trying not to jostle his full stomach too much. "So tomorrow's the big day," he said conversationally. "The mystery of the great exploding gumball tree will once and for all be solved… I bet Dad never imagined we'd be here," he said softly as he pulled a clean set of clothes from his bag.

"Mm-hm," Sam responded tiredly into his pillow.

Dean snorted softly as he reminisced, "You had the weirdest obsessions as a kid dude… I mean- exploding gumballs?" He glanced at the younger man who was still buried in his pillow. He shook his head fondly, folding his dirty t-shirt, "Too bad we didn't have the information we have now back then… Dad would've had fun with this one."

"Mm."

Dean paused, his eyes latching onto the still lump on the other bed. "Sam," he said flatly.

"Hm?"

"Are you even awake or are you just unconsciously responding to me?"

"Mm."

Dean rolled his eyes and held his wrist up, looking at his watch, "Dude, it's not even eight o'clock." This time he didn't even get a customary response, just the steady rise and fall of his brothers back. "You're like a friggin ogre…give you a little white-haired lady and some home-cooked food and you go into hibernation mode." When he still didn't get a response, he stripped down to his boxers and picked up his clean set of clothes. "Alright well I'm gonna take a shower… you just lay there and ferment okay?" He started backing toward the bathroom, "Maybe we'll play a little Parcheesi later… some domino's… ooh, how bout some scrabble?" Sam was completely gone. Dean smirked and then closed the bathroom door behind him.

* * *

"Rise and shine boys," Grandma Beatrice shuffled through their door with a beautifully wrinkled and bright smile, a tray in hand. "Breakfast is ready and there's a whole new world out there to see."

The boys were a bit more ready this morning; Dean having set their alarm to six o'clock just so they'd know to pull their covers over themselves in case the rooster made another appearance. Well… Dean had woken up anyways; Sam had slept right through the alarm. So like the good older brother he was, he first tried throwing the nearest object at the younger man, which happened to be the alarm clock and then when that still didn't work, he'd clambered out of his cozy bed with a longsuffering sigh and yanked Sam's sheets and blankets over him before falling back into his own bed and covering up.

Sam now wiped the sleep from his eyes and dutifully pushed himself up against the headboard, realizing he was still in his t-shirt from yesterday when Grandma Bee placed the tray full of hot food on his lap; giving his cheek a gentle pinch for good measure. Dean didn't even attempt to hold back a laugh to which he received a glare.

Dean received his tray next and a pat on the head. "Thank you Grandma Bee," Dean overly-aggrandized; batting his eyelashes with an innocent smile.

The kind old woman held a hand over her heart a moment with a smile to express her utmost joy at his appreciation. "Well don't let it get cold; eat, eat!" She waved her hands at them and then shuffled her way out of their bedroom once more with a joyful expression.

"Aw, be still my beating heart," Dean mock gushed over their chocolate chip pancakes that had two raspberries on them for eyes and a whip cream smile

"God," Sam again wiped at his eyes, "I feel like all we ever do here is _eat_."

"I have no issues with that." Dean dug into his smiley-face pancake.

"You will when your jeans won't fit anymore," Sam picked up his orange juice, sniffed it and then took a sip, savoring the sweet, tangy flavor.

"Hey, I'm not the one who had an eating problem growing up."

Sam sent his brother an annoyed glare. "The only reason I was chubby was because I hadn't hit puberty yet and you and Dad ate like horses. So of course I was a little fat."

"Excuses, excuses."

"Where are my pants?"

Dean gestured with a forkful of sausage across the room, "On the dresser… apparently you're a cheap date." He took a drink from his coffee.

Sam tried to smooth down some unruly locks of hair. "I can't believe I slept this long."

"_You _can't?" Dean asked incredulously. "Try being the one listening to your snores all night."

"I don't snore."

Dean's head tilted back as he drained his cup. "Five bucks if you go get me a refill." He joked, lazily holding the cup out toward his brother.

Sam picked up his own mug of coffee and then carefully reached over the side of his bed, pouring his cups contents into his slightly surprised brother's cup without a word.

"Uh… thanks," Dean said lamely as he set the mug down on his tray, a little uncomfortable with accepting such an open sentiment; because if there was one thing Dean knew about his kid brother, it was that Sammy loved his coffee.

Sam didn't pay any attention as he lifted his tray and set it off to the side of his bed. "I'm gonna grab a shower," he informed lightly as he stood and stretched, his back cracking in several different places.

"Okay," Dean answered; lightly fingering the handle on his cup while swirling his fork in syrup. After Sam disappeared behind the bathroom door and the shower started up a few seconds later, his eyes darted over to his brother's tray still full of food. He smirked, picking up his coffee and looking into it again. He couldn't remember the last time they'd been this… _nice_… to each other. It had to be their small break from all things demon related. He just couldn't believe they'd found respite _here_… in Lyford, Texas of all places. If they survived the next few months, he'd have to bring them back down here; if not for the relaxing nature of their surroundings, then for their amazing chef… well, her food anyways. Dean smirked, knowing he really was starting to kind of like the spirited old woman. If she had one thing going for her, it was the full, nearly ten hour sleep his brother had gotten in _one night_ while in her home.

He drained his coffee again and smacked his lips. Then he set his tray off to the side, climbed out of bed, and walked to the bathroom door which Sam still to this day never closed all the way. He reached inside and pushed down on the toilet handle, pleased to hear a sudden loud thumping and stumbling followed by some very creative cursing.

**TBC… **

(Yeeaaaahhh… it's a short chapter – sorry. Not much plot evolvement either. Just realized that as I read through it again. Sorry. It gets better I swear.)


	6. Chapter 6

**The Great Gumball Affair **

**By: Maygin **

Summary: Dean and Sam head south to deal with a thousand year old legend that no one will touch… perhaps because they're too busy laughing at it?

_The Blah-Blah Section_: Alright!! Finally a little bit of action has come to pass! Not much mind you cuz I don't write action very well. But I do believe **this** is (warning: cliché ahead) the moment you've all been waiting for. (maybe) Thanks to Sera and Tails for pointing out that tutu's do not in fact come with the rising of the sun… you _don_ a tutu… not _dawn_… sorry about that little mistake. Awesome, awesome reviews guys! I had grins all day reading them! I even got a few _squee's_ outta people which of course in turn makes me _squee_ :) I'm sorry if I haven't responded to you personally yet - but know I wuv you!

**Chapter 6**

Dean's brow slowly turned into a frown as they turned into the field with the lone tree. "Oh," he drawled warily, "that does not look like the same tree we left yesterday."

Sam's head lifted from his notes; his brow piqued in curiosity but quickly smoothed out in disbelief. "No it doesn't," he agreed.

The happy, healthy gumball tree they'd familiarized themselves with the day before was now looming and shadowed as if Edgar Allen Poe had died at its roots. Sam half expected a raven to be sitting on its now bent and twisted branches, cawing its death omen to all who dared draw near. Even the grass around the tree had shriveled, ugly black, scorch marks tinging what once was beautiful, lush and green. Dean slowed the truck to a stop, a good distance from the tree still.

"Guess she was right about the grass burning," Sam said.

"Yeah but what's the deal?" Dean asked angrily. "I thought this was supposed to go down on the 29th."

"It _is_," Sam assured, confused himself. "Maybe we messed something up… maybe it considered us a threat when we tried the holy water on it yesterday."

"And what – just magically transformed into Maleficent?"

Sam turned suddenly giving his brother an odd look.

Dean looked distinctly uncomfortable. "The- tv was- stuck on the Disney channel, I- forget it." He gave up.

"Look," Sam changed the subject, "maybe we should re-think this."

"Sam we don't really have time to re-think this. Besides, if what we did yesterday caused _this,_ then the fifty gallons we got back there," Dean jerked his thumb behind them, "is gonna completely disintegrate it."

"Or what if it just pisses it off more?"

"Sam it's a tree," Dean reminded dully. Sam's head tilted with a flat, pointed look. Dean glanced at the black, twisted branches again and conceded, "Alright it's a very resentful tree. But I know for a fact we don't have time to go researching a cleansing ritual to perform and I'm not too keen on setting fire to something that's had a habit of spawning gumball grenades in its offspring."

Sam licked his lips, and then let out a deep sigh. "Alright, what do you want me to do?"

Dean ran a hand over his mouth, gazing at the tree. "You think you can manage not to tear up what's left of the gear shift?"

Sam wanted to roll his eyes, but instead looked uncertain, "I don't know man, maybe you should drive and I'll…" Sam thumbed the tank behind them.

"Seriously?" Dean looked crestfallen.

Sam snorted, giving into an eye roll finally, "There's something wrong with you."

A wide grin of excitement suddenly took over the older Winchester's face. "I owe you dude," Dean tossed back as he quickly fled from the drivers seat and ran around to the truck bed, climbing in before Sam could change his mind.

"Do you even know how to work that thing?" Sam called out his window as he slid into the driver's seat.

"Yeah, I watched that movie," Dean said matter of factly.

"What?" Sam half-laughed, half incredulous; it would be just like his brother. "What movie?"

"You know… the one with the fireman and stuff." Dean said as he started unwinding the hose from its resting place.

"Right, because there are so few of those."

"Exactly wise-ass, which means _all_ of them show you the basics on how to operate a fire hose and pressure gage."

"Well I'm just wondering which of those are actual credible sources. I mean are we talking _Three Stooges_ or _Rescue Me_?"

"Dude, would you drive the damn truck already? The things gonna shrivel up and die of old age before we get to it."

"Whatever man, you just don't wanna miss lunch," Sam chuckled, starting the car and jamming it into gear, slowly starting off across the field. "You sure you're ready?"

Dean loosened the ring on the tank and re-checked the gage. "Let's do it," he called loudly.

Sam's head jerked slightly, "Here goes nothing," he whispered as he steadily drove them toward the tree. The looming shadow despite the sunny, blue-sky day above quickly filled his windshield.

"Alright that's good," Dean smacked hard on the trucks old metal roof a couple times. The truck slowed to a stop, still a good ten feet away, just beyond the short wire fencing. He lifted the hose and positioned himself so he leaned back against the tank, knowing the kick of water pressure would likely throw him at first. "Ready?" He called loudly.

"No."

Dean smirked, his eyes never leaving the tree as he braced himself and then pulled down on the lever.

Nothing happened.

Dean's smile dropped as he looked down at the hose in his hand; not even a drip of water. He reached back, tapped the gage and then tried jiggling the lever on the end of the hose again. He almost toppled backwards, over the tank as a sudden explosion of Holy water shot out of the hose, most of it shooting straight up in the air before he regained control, pushing the lever closed again with a soft curse.

Sam's brow furrowed as large amounts of water suddenly smacked and splashed against the windshield startling him. "What the-" he leaned his head half way out his window, "Hey, I thought you knew what you were doing."

"Shut-up," Dean said and then pulled the lever down, this time prepared. The holy water shot out in a steady stream toward the tree; drenching it. Dean aimed for the topmost branches and then moved the hose up and down, coating it thoroughly. He grinned wickedly as the tree started hissing and steam began rising from its branches and trunk.

Sam shook his head slightly in amusement as he could just barely hear his brother's chuckles over the water and the hissing. His smile slowly died however as veins in the base of the tree slowly started to glow like molten lava behind the steam, steadily working its way up. The branches and the entire structure of the tree almost seemed to be vibrating as the veins continued to the very tips of the branches. "Um… Dean," Sam called, his eyes never straying as the veins suddenly reached the hundreds of gumballs hanging by thin stems; all of them started trembling like a hot pressure valve about to explode. Dean frowned slightly as he watched the spectacle from his vantage point, still hosing down the tree.

Suddenly one of the gumballs shot from the tree and landed far off to their right. Grass, clumps of dirt and fire exploded into the air, startling the boys. Sam's eyes suddenly widened as another explosion sounded behind the tree. He started at Dean's sudden pounding on the roof of the truck.

"Sam, I think now would be a good time to pull back."

"Ya think?" But Sam was already starting the truck and jamming her into reverse. He didn't even bother trying to see out the back window, already knowing it would be blocked by the tank. Instead he glanced back and forth between his side-view mirrors and the tree as more explosions started sounding off around them; clumps of dirt and grass raining down on them.

"Faster, faster!" Dean yelled as more and more gumballs shot from their branches, turning into deadly missiles. One gumball hit its mark near the trucks front, right tire. The explosion shattered the windshield and front end, sending the truck flying onto its left side.

Dean nearly toppled beneath the tank, but pushed off at the last second, rolling hard, but clear of the trucks toppling path. "Son of a bitch," he groaned as he pushed himself onto his feet, mindful of the bruise he could feel developing on his hip already and brushing dirt from his hair. He glanced behind him at the truck whose back right wheel was still turning as it laid on its left side. The front, right end of the truck was all twisted metal and smoke, the hood of the car, bent backwards against what used to be the windshield, and he could smell the burnt rubber from the tire. "Sam," he called as another gumball made a kamikaze far to his left, reminding him of the seriousness of their situation. "Sam!" He called again, now running toward the car, watching out for falling gumballs. He ran toward the front and tried to pull the hood back so he could crawl inside but it didn't budge.

"Sammy?" He still had yet to hear his brother respond by the time he was scrambling up onto the passenger side door, looking down through the shattered window. "Sam?" His brother lay on his side against the driver's door, a bloody hand slowly raising to clumsily finger a gash along his left brow; the right side of his face peppered with small cuts. Dean shifted his feet to the door frame and tried yanking the door open, but like the hood, it was dented inward. "Damnit," he smacked the door in frustration. "Sam?"

Sam grunted in response, lifting his head slightly as more explosions sounded off outside the truck. "Are we at war?" he asked, confused.

"Gumballs," Dean quickly answered as he shifted again so he was laying against the door and shimmied his torso through the open window space. "Come on buddy," Dean encouraged as he grabbed two fistfuls of his brother's jacket and pulled, "We gotta get outta here."

Another explosion hit close and shook the truck, causing Dean to let go of his brother with one hand to grasp onto the dashboard so he wouldn't fall in completely. "Sam," he urged through gritted teeth as he pulled up again. Sam moaned as his upper body lifted slightly and pressed a hand onto the steering wheel to balance himself as his legs just sort of kicked and shuffled, trying to find purchase. Dean growled as he tried to hold up the younger man until he got his feet beneath him. "One too many sweet rolls for you kid."

"Dean, the tree," Sam warned, seeming to come to his senses suddenly as Dean continued to try and help pull him up and out.

"Yeah, I know we gotta get outta here," Dean rushed, straining muscles to pull his brother up with him. He backed himself out of the window, his hands never leaving Sam's jacket, constantly pulling as more explosions rocked the ground around them, causing them to flinch every time one came too close.

"But the tree…" Sam half argued, doing his best to avoid using his bloody, cut up hands as he ungracefully, with Dean's help, escaped the inside of the truck. On instinct, Dean made another grab at Sam's jacket and rolled backwards, taking them both over the edge, and falling to the ground in a heap just as another gumball exploded on the other side of the truck bed, beneath the belly of the vehicle.

"This is insane!" Dean yelled over the explosions and increasing hissing and rumbling from the tree, ducking his head and covering Sam's with an arm as another one came close. He began trying to pull the hose out from underneath the tank, yanking and pushing.

Sam tried to wipe the stream of blood trailing down his face with his jacket sleeve as his hands were already too covered in blood. He let out a frustrated sigh as another explosion rocked the truck slightly. "Hey Dean," he said conversationally, "remember when I told you about that cursed tree that dropped exploding gumballs… and you laughed at me?" Another explosion off to their left; Dean ignoring him as he yanked the hose free and began trying to un-bend the lever. "It's just a tree Sam," the younger Winchester casually imitated, gesturing with his bloody hand as his brother smacked the bent lever against the tank. Another explosion, behind them this time. "Holy water will kill it for sure Sam," he added flippantly, lightly patting the water tank with his hand, leaving bloody handprints behind. "Let's get on with it Sam, I don't wanna miss lunc-"

"Are you seriously gonna bitch while we're getting gumball grenaded?!" Dean yelled incredulously over another explosion with pure frustration.

"You do realize there's a tree shooting exploding missiles everywhere…" two explosions both on the right side, "and we're hiding behind a diesel-fueled truck leaking gas."

Dean paused, his head lifting slightly from his work on the hose. He comically glanced around at their bomb shelter. "_Freakin A_!" he suddenly bellowed.

Sam chuckled, taking another swipe at his forehead. "That's a new one."

Dean's head whipped around, "And why the hell are you so freakin happy about all this?!" he accused angrily as another explosion rocked the truck.

Sam's hands lifted casually and dropped into his lap again with another chuckle. "Nothing man; it's just nice to have been so blaringly right for a change."

Dean sprang forward, leaning over and covering his seated brother as another grenade went off close behind them, debris falling on them in clumps and the heat from the explosion pressing against them. Dean remained hunched over his brother a few more moments with an unusually pensive look on his face.

Sam shifted beneath brother's body shield a little uncomfortably before warily asking, "Are you having a girl moment?"

"Shh!" Dean hushed harshly, sitting back a little to give his brother room. "You hear that?"

Sam tilted his head as he suddenly picked up on the strange, high-pitched sound over the explosions. "Sounds like a… tea pot."

The boys turned and slowly peered up and over the right side of the car, their eyes widening. The tree was now vibrating uncontrollably with minute tremors, the roots busting at the seams out of the ground and the molten veins burning brighter and brighter as the hundreds of dead gumballs surrounding the tree on the ground, having previously fallen before the Winchester's arrival, now glowed the same bright lava color and swelling.

"That can't be good." Dean said casually.

"I think- maybe…" Sam trailed off; his bloody hand fisting in his brother's jacket and tugging slightly as he slowly started backing up.

The high pitched hissing noise suddenly turned into an inhuman scream ripping from the very bowels of the tree to the tips of its branches. Dean immediately turned and grabbed his brother's jacket, pulling him alongside him. "RUN!"

The boys ran as fast as they could away from the impending doom. Suddenly it was as if all the air and cacophony of noises surrounding them was suddenly sucked backwards into a vacuum, causing a brief moment of numbing, dead silence before a deafening explosion ripped and vibrated through the air, immediately followed by a violent shock wave that hit the boys backs and tossed them like rag dolls through the air; landing harshly on the soft dirt and rolling to an eventual stop.

"Plegh!" Dean spit out a mouthful of dirt and painfully lifted his head, his eyes widening as he took in the huge crater where the tree once presided. Dirt practically rained from the sky; some of it slowly drifting down like snow, the rest dropping in large chunks. Absolutely nothing of the tree remained, not even a single gumball that he could see from his position on his stomach. A gargantuan, mushroom-shaped plume of smoke filled the sky, signaling half of Texas to their victory.

"_Woo-Hoo-Hoo_!" Dean hooted through a beaming smile as he pushed himself over onto his back. "That was freakin _awesome_," he exclaimed loudly with a laugh. He lifted his head to gaze happily at what was left of the smoldering crater once more. He openly laughed again in smug triumph. "How'd you like _them _gumballs, _bitch_," he loudly taunted with delight. He finally released a happy sigh and let his head drop back and then roll to the side to check out his partner in crime fifteen feet away. "Sammy, how you doin," he asked casually with a content smile.

Sam lay flat on his back, arms and legs splayed out, his eyes tiredly staring straight up. "I hate you - _so_ - _damn_ - _much_."

Dean started laughing again. "From now on," he pointed an enthusiastic finger at his sibling, "we kill _everything _with Holy water."

"Does that include your ego?"

"Oh, knock it if you must Sammy," Dean gushed happily, "but this has been the best damn case we've ever taken. I mean did you _see_ that explosion?!" He whooped again.

If he'd had the energy, Sam would've laughed at his brother's giddy attitude; _like a five year old at Christmas_. "Half the county is gonna come running out here any minute now." He reminded, wiping at his forehead with his sleeve.

"Sammy."

"Yes Dean," Sam responded tiredly with a smirk.

"Admit it."

Sam's eyes rolled up as he drew in a deep breath, trying not to grin. "Alright," he sighed, "this _was_ the best damn case we've ever taken." He rolled his head to the side. "Happy?"

Dean smirked back and the two just stared at each other a few moments, the lighter dirt still falling like snow around them. "Hey Sam?"

Sam snorted, his head rolling to stare up at the sky again. "Yes Dean," he responded submissively.

"Grannie's gonna be _pissed_ when she finds out you blew up her tree."

Sam laughed, "Not as pissed as Gus is going to be when he finds out what you did to his truck."

Dean chuckled, his head lifting to glance at the now completely blackened and even more bent and broken piece of smoking junk having been caught in the grand finale explosion. "Damn," he drawled unable to smother his grin. "Guess we're gonna have to come up with a pretty good cover story."

"Yeah well you have fun with that one," Sam informed lightly as he lifted his hands, checking over the damage and wincing as he tried to flex them. Dean sorely rolled onto his hands and knees, pushing himself up to his feet with a groan. He fingered his bruised hip as he slowly walked toward his brother.

"Need a hand?" Dean offered and then reached down, getting two fistfuls of the younger man's jacket and pulled him to his feet. He held on as Sam swayed from the sudden change of position and then tilted his siblings head slightly to the side to get a better look at the gash. He pressed his thumb against the edge of the cut only to have Sam slap his hand away with his arm with a look of disapproval.

"Ow," he said pointedly.

"Sorry… I think you'll live though."

"After all that," Sam gestured to the smoldering crater behind them, "it would be embarrassing not to."

Dean gave his brother a friendly smack on the back before starting the slow trek back to the Bed and Breakfast, Sam walking alongside him and the smoking cavity in the field lazily settling in its defeat behind them.

"Five bucks if you carry me back."

**TBC… **

(So… was the gumball everything you thought it would be? There's still one… no, two… one or two chapters left so maybe it'll help round it off if you didn't like this chapter. Thanks for stickin with me. Also, I'd just like to go ahead and say I know nothing about water tanks and firetrucks – especially classic ones so yes, I'm sure it's obvious I totally fudged my way through that description. And no comments from you Mr. Phil! I can just imagine how many times you rolled your eyes at my lame attempt at describing the workings of a firehose ;)


	7. Chapter 7

**The Great Gumball Affair**

**By: Maygin**

Summary: Dean and Sam head south to deal with a thousand year old legend that no one will touch… perhaps because they're too busy laughing at it?

_The Blah-Blah Section_: Yeah! One more chapter after this! I think this chapter will put a lot of your questions about a certain someone to rest ;)

**Chapter 7**

"Hey, you boys alright?" Gus called worriedly from the front porch steps of the Bed and Breakfast as the Winchester brothers tiredly trudged up the road. "We heard the explosions and saw the sky fill with smoke… we was about to come out there and have a look fer ourselves." His head turned to the younger brother. "You look like shit."

"Yeah, about the truck-" Sam started with a cringe.

"We saw some drunk guys out in the field way down the road setting fire to that old tree everyone talks about-"

"Ole Gumbie?" Gus asked incredulously, his eyes widening. "What the hell sonsabitches would do that?!"

"Our thoughts exactly," Dean heartily agreed.

"So we thought we'd check it out… maybe run em off."

"And since we had the truck and we were there…"

"We thought we might go ahead and try to put out the fire."

"No shit?" Gus' eyes widened even further with excitement, and then he leaned to the side, looking past the boys, noticing the distinct lack of truck behind them. "Didn't go so well huh?" he asked with the same customary casualness the mechanic seemed famous for.

Dean almost rolled his eyes in disbelief; if it had been the Impala, he'd have already dismembered the persons head from their body.

"Yeeeaaah," Sam drawled, feeling the same as his brother. "Apparently the drunk guys had- um…" he pressed his lips together, suddenly realizing just how ridiculous their cover sounded, "explosives."

"Son of a bitch!" Gus slapped his leg with an excited laugh, followed by some hooting and hollering. "Damn! You boys know how to have a good time!"

Dean and Sam awkwardly glanced sideways at each other. Dean attempted a direct approach instead, "The truck blew up."

"Holy Shit!" Gus laughed loudly in disbelief, clapping his hands. He seemed to calm down for a moment only to bust out laughing again. Dean cleared his throat as Sam chewed on his lip. "Oh… man," Gus blew out a blissful breath of air, pulling his sweat-stained cap from his head and smacking it against his leg, dust billowing in the air, before plopping it back on. He gave a small nod, and then sighed again. "Well I'll let the Sheriff know what happened," he finally said, his expression slowly turning forlorn. "Look, uh…" he glanced behind him hesitantly, "I hate to be the one to tell you this but uh… well- Grandma Bee died earlier this mornin."

Sam's face dropped as he felt a lead weight drop in his gut. "What?" he asked in disbelief.

"Yep," Gus sadly nodded, pulling his cap from his head again to awkwardly fiddle with it between his hands. "Apparently Miss Rosa was stopping by for their weekly game of cribbage and found her asleep on the couch. …only she wasn't asleep."

"God," Sam half said, half whispered, expressing his horror.

"Yeah," Gus nodded sadly, his eyes awkwardly avoiding theirs. "Apparently she died holding a rolling pin to her chest and a smile on her face though, so…"

Sam's forehead smoothed out as an odd choking noise suddenly erupted from his brother. He slapped his hand hard against his struggling brother's chest when Gus turned to glance at the house again.

"I reckon Pete'll be by later to take the body to the funeral home," Gus said as he turned back to the boys, completely oblivious of Dean's losing battle to laughter and Sam's horrified embarrassment. Sam gave a sympathetic nod of understanding. "I figure you boys are welcome to stay until you can git yerselves situated to move on. I'm sure it's what Grandma Bee woulda wanted."

Dean's head tilted, his lips pressed firmly together as tears formed in his eyes. Gus noticed and misinterpreted the older Winchester's struggles as grief. He reached forward and rested a hand on the younger man's shoulder, giving it a good squeeze. "It's okay Dean. Ain't no shame in crying. Let it out man… Lyford cries with you."

A choking snort bursted from Dean's lips who immediately hunched his shoulders and dropped his head and at least attempted to hide his tears of laughter behind a hand. His other hand clamped onto Gus', giving it a camaraderie squeeze in return. Sam glowered across the lawn, intentionally not looking at his brother knowing he'd only be driven to homicidal acts.

"Thanks Gus," Dean managed with a nod, still not raising his head as he wiped at his eyes again.

"Anytime man, anytime." Gus gave him another squeeze on his shoulder and then stepped back. "Well, I gotta get back to the shop; see if I can drum up a new fire truck." He shook his head with a smirk, "Man, wait until Goober hears about this." He plopped his hat back on, "You boys let me know if you need anything else before you head out. They'll be by to pick up the body in an hour or so."

"Thank Gus," Sam quietly responded, his eyes sullenly watching the house. Gus gave a final nod and then hopped into his truck and drove off.

Dean sighed before gently tagging his brothers arm and walking toward the house, "Come on."

Sam followed after him; warily walking through the front door, his eyes scanning the living room as they neared it. There, lying on the couch, exactly as Gus had said, was Beatrice Montgomery; with a rolling pin held to her chest and a peaceful expression on her face. Sam stopped short of the couch and just stared. Dean stood beside him, gazing down respectfully despite his earlier amusement. She'd been more than good to them and he wanted to offer her that if nothing else. But he couldn't imagine a woman who was always so lively and spirited in life would want them moping around her dead body. Dean almost imagined her death position as her final salute to the world; her last farewell as she now eagerly and happily sought out her next adventure facing the afterlife. He let out a breath of a laugh, wishing her well. And then he looked at Sam who hadn't moved; hadn't even blinked.

"You alright," Dean asked quietly enough that his brother could act like he never heard it if he wanted to.

Sam looked to be doing just that when his head jerked slightly toward him, not quite looking at him. "We should've scanned the house," his voice low.

"What?" Dean frowned, not expecting that.

"She trusted us to keep her safe and we didn't."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Now he was a little worried.

Sam suddenly turned and brushed past Dean, "I'm getting the EMF and the guns. We need to scan the house; we need to find out what did this."

"Whoa-whoa wait a second Sammy," Dean half-chuckled incredulously, grabbing the younger man's arm, mindful of the cuts on his hands. "If something had been in the house, we would've noticed it by now. A spirit didn't do this-"

"Well then we need to figure out what _did_," Sam twisted his arm with annoyance to free it.

Dean gripped it tighter, jerking toward him. "Sam," he said firmly, "Nothing evil did this. She was an old lady and I'm sorry but that's just the way it is." He dropped the younger man's arm and spoke softly, "She was ninety years old dude… she wasn't gonna live forever."

And Dean almost wished he'd kept his mouth shut and let Sam think it was a spirit of some kind; because the look his little brother gave him was something new and heartbreakingly innocent. He suddenly realized his brother had probably never been around anyone that had died of natural causes before. Through all the blood and guts and dismemberments and broken bodies and burnt corpses – Sammy had never had anyone die on him because it was simply their time. There was always something for them to blame, to hunt, to exact revenge on… but this… this was just death. No rhyme or reason and something Sam was finding himself helpless to do anything about.

Dean flexed his hands as he awkwardly scanned the room while Sam, still speckled and smeared with drying blood just stared at the woman who'd made them smiley-face pancakes that morning. "Why don't you wait here Sammy," he said softly, "I'll go get our stuff." He waited another moment for his brother to give him a barely-there nod without looking up before slowly making his way upstairs to their room to pack their stuff up.

When Dean came back downstairs with a duffle bag on each shoulder, he found the living room lacking anything _living_. "Sam," he called casually, setting the bags down and checking out the back porch windows followed by the kitchen and dining room. When he entered the living room again he noticed Grandma Beatrice had an old crocheted blanket draped gently across her frame. Dean gave her one last nod of thanks before walking toward the hallway and shouldering their bags again, walking out the front door. "Sam?" he called as he closed the door behind him, hoping to find his sibling waiting next to the car. He caught sight of him out of the corner of his eye to his right, sitting perfectly still in one of the old rocking chairs.

Dean gently laid the bags down and slowly walked across porch, crossing in front of his brother and taking a seat in the other rocking chair with a sigh. He let his eyes roam over the landscape, gently rocking back and forth; taking in the last peaceful moments of Lyford's darling.

"What if this was our fault," Sam finally voiced quietly, his eyes never straying from the southern landscape.

"It's not," Dean answered in kind, only with confidence as he continued his slow rocking.

"But what if it is? What if we- with the tree, and-" he asked hesitantly.

"Sam," Dean said gently, his head rolling to the left as he stilled his chair, "this has nothing to do with that." Sam's head haltingly turned toward his brother. "She was really old and that's it."

Sam turned to look back out across the yard. Seconds ticked by as Dean renewed his slow rocking.

"It's just not fair," Sam whispered without looking at him. And Dean was almost uncertain if Sam was even talking to _him_.

"She lived a good long life."

"How do you know?" Sam asked slightly accusing though he hadn't meant for it to come out that way.

Dean puckered his chin in thought. "Because she still found it within herself to laugh at age ninety."

Sam's eyes drifted and slowly found Dean's. A smirk slowly formed on his face before he looked down at his towel-wrapped hands and then across the yard again. "So," he shifted slightly with a grin, "Vanquishers of the Exploding Gumball huh?"

Dean snorted softly, "Champions of the Spiky Ball of Death."

"Defacers of the Lone Firetruck."

Dean laughed and drew in a breath behind his open smile, pushing himself to his feet and stretching sore muscles with a loud groan. "Alright, where to next," he clapped his hands.

Sam watched him amusedly and shrugged.

"Wanna hit up the Alamo?"

Sam snorted, "Whatever, as long I get a shower sometime today. I think I've still got glass in my hands," he said as he rose and followed his brother down the hollow porch steps to their car.

"Kits in the back seat, we'll stop at a gas station outside of town." Dean's door opened loudly with a squeak as he prepared to drop into his seat.

"Looks different doesn't it?" Sam asked, watching the house from his car door.

Dean paused to gaze over the car at their brief safe haven. Sam was right; it almost looked aged and worn down now, the white siding looking almost dull and the inside shadowed. It was no longer the welcoming bright light of Lyford the boys had stepped into. Dean sighed. He couldn't believe how one, ninety-year, hunched-back little old lady could bring so much life and joy to a house. No… he thought; he _could_ believe it actually. He'd had it once himself, only she wasn't ninety and she wasn't hunch-backed… she was beautiful and she loved her family. His gaze switched to his brother who was still staring longingly at the house. He suddenly understood _normal_, and realized he just how much he kinda missed it himself.

"Come on Sam," Dean dropped into the car, "Day's wastin away and there's a whole world out there for us to see."

Sam smiled fondly as he continued to watch the house, remembering Grannie saying the same thing earlier that day. He gave a final nod to the Bed and Breakfast before dropping into his seat and shutting his door; the Impala slowly making its way down the gravel driveway and out of sight.

**TBC…**

(Okay, for those of you who were wondering what was up with Grannie Bee or that I was gonna turn her evil somehow… you totally cracked me up! Because I had every intention of putting a twist in there where she ends up being like the witch from Hansel and Gretel; and though – yeah – it would've been funny and fun, I just really wanted to touch on something else. I needed my angst! ;) Let me know what you think – was where I took it okay or do people want to kill me now that Grannie's gone?) (I'll upload final chapter tomorrow – promise)


	8. Epilogue

**The Great Gumball Affair**

**By: Maygin**

Summary: Dean and Sam head south to deal with a thousand year old legend that no one will touch… perhaps because they're too busy laughing at it?

_The Blah-Blah Section_: Alright ya'll – I am deeply apologetic that you guys had to wait like THREE WEEKS for this final chapter; but I REFUSE to update stories while the FFN alerts are down. Because you never know if your alerts will just back up and send when they come back up or what. And I know a LOT of you are like me and don't even check the updates section very often, you just wait for the alerts and yeah I'm totally whining but I can do that because it was my birthday yesterday therefore I have every right to be a little unreasonable…… just remember you used to love me. Anywho, this may not have been worth the wait, but it's the finale all the same. Thank you kindly guys for all the reviews and for reading it! I hope you got as much a kick outta it as I did!

**Epilogue**

"We're gonna stay on this road until we hit Interstate thirty-seven."

"Going?"

"West," Sam answered, folding back a piece of the map to better situate it on his lap. The sun was still shining brightly around the vast highway before them; the quiet sound of the radio filling their silences. "Any reason why you wanted to see the Alamo?" he asked without taking his eyes off the map.

Dean shrugged. "It's a historical landmark, why the hell not?"

"Okay," Sam conceded, lifting the other tourist brochures his brother had grabbed from the last gas station they'd stopped at. He started leafing through them, "What about these other places?"

"What about em?"

Sam turned his wrist to make the brochure visible to his brother with a flat look, "You _do_ realize the Forbidden Gardens is a not a strip joint right?"

Dean glanced at the brochure his brother was holding; just _now_ seeing the picture of a boring courtyard littered with Chinese statues. His eyes bounced to his brother and back to the road. "I like plants," he murmured awkwardly.

Sam snorted and held up another brochure. Dean glanced at it and then broke into a smile.

"Oh yeah," he chuckled, "We gotta go there."

"Uncertain?" Sam asked incredulously.

"Come on," Dean's smirk bounced back and forth between the road and his sibling, "You gotta wonder."

"Not really," Sam objected good naturedly flipping open the brochure, "I mean – who names a town _Uncertain_? What the hell were they uncertain about?"

Dean grinned, knowing his little brother was hooked despite his will as he buried his face in the leaflet; no doubt sucking it dry of any and all details and facts it offered. "And you know there's this house in Houston we gotta see… it's made entirely out of beer cans." He glanced at his brother to see if he was paying attention; he wasn't. "Hey, Sam – I'm talking to you here-"

"Shut-up for a second," Sam reached forward, turning up the volume on the radio.

"_-right Diane. All across the nation, citizens are reporting fires outside their homes, their schools, their workplaces… it seems the fires are localized however to, and this is the strange part – the __Liquidambar Styraciflua's… more commonly known as – the Gumball Tree_."

Dean slowed the car to a stop in the middle of the barren road, both boys attention fixed solely on the radio.

"_The first sighting was reported at nine-fifteen this morning by a young, stay at home mom in Columbus, Ohio._ 'I thought I smelled smoke so I looked outside and our tree was completely covered in flames. So I called the fire department and got the kids outta the house.' _Now, amazingly enough, none of the reported fires have spread beyond the trees themselves. Local Fire Chief, Ben Cowlings, stated he is 'as clueless as the next'._ _Secretary of Homeland Security, Michael Chertoff, assured the press earlier today that despite public fears, this is_ not _a terrorist attack._ _Chertoff went on to explain the tree fires were too numerous and random across the nation to have any significance. Not to mention no real damage, other than the loss of the tree's themselves have been reported. We'll hopefully have more to report for you in the next hour including the latest conspiracy theories on what is now being referred to as, The Great Gumball Affair. Back to you Diane."_

Dean and Sam silently continued to sit staring at the radio as some clever radio jockey started playing '_We Didn't Start The Fire_'. They both slowly turned to look at each other with varying degrees of shock and guilt… one simple message clearly being conveyed between them – _oh shit_.

Sam slowly reached forward to switch off the radio; as if fearful it would bite him. He swallowed a lump in his throat and then joined Dean in stupidly staring out the windshield at the empty road before them.

"Didn't see that one coming," Dean awkwardly commented.

"We just decimated half the Gumball Tree population," Sam said with quiet awe, his eyes never leaving the long stretch of barren road. "We're like… _whale killers_."

Dean tilted his head in consideration, "Could be worse."

Sam's head whipped around with an incredulous look. "How could it be worse Dean? Every gumball tree across America that spawned from the Chale seed-line in the last _thousand_ years just went up in flames."

"At least it's just the trees… the fires aren't spreading."

Sam blinked at his brother, a look of numb shock still on his face. "We're going to hell."

"No one will get blowed up anymore," Dean added with a nervous smirk.

Sam turned his dumbfounded gaze back toward the endless road. "We caused a national disturbance," he said softly.

Dean silently nodded in agreement. A moment later he tilted his head with a smirk. "I can't wait to see the look on Bobby's face when we tell him."

Sam again turned toward his brother, his dazed expression slowly morphing into a grin, followed shortly there after by a soft laugh. Dean found himself chuckling along with him before he let his foot off the brake and started them on their way again. Feeling much lighter, he reached forward and flipped the radio back on, catching the tail end of the same song which only made them laugh more.

"Hey Dean?"

"Yeah?"

Sam glanced down at his bandaged hands with a curious grin. "You think Grannie Bee would've been pissed at us… like, for real?"

"Nah," Dean said after a moment of consideration, "I think she would've laughed her head off and then made a feast of it."

"Yeah," Sam snorted, turning a soft smile to the passing scenery.

"Hey Sam?" Dean said a few seconds later.

"Yeah?"

"Next time… I'm picking the case."

Sam laughed. "Deal."

**THE END**

(Short and Sweet. Well, I hope it was sweet anyways. Thank you again guys and sorry for the long wait!! This case is closed! MWA : )


End file.
